INDIRA MAYA



PLAYED BY: Megan

TITLE: Dancer/Artist at La Tristesse

RACE: Succubus/Clanless

HANDS OF POWER: Telepathy (Master)

MERITS: Performance (has great artistic talents in painting and dancing…), Linguistics (English, Hindi, Sanskrit, Latin and some Arabic and Egyptian), Seduction.

FLAWS: Mute (She chooses her silence, it’s easier that way. Less questions asked) Permanent Wound (She was burned somehow, long ago…the burns never healed as they should and curl up the right side of her body, up her neck and partially on her cheek), Wings.

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Ht: 5’ 6”, Wt: 130 with amber eyes and auburn hair that is streaked with red and black.  Her wings are that of a dragon, gossamer in their iridescence, but frightening in their shape.

HISTORY: Indira Maya has lived in India as long as she can remember, and during the many feudal battles between Indian tribes she found herself sold into slavery, where she traveled all throughout the Middle East and Asia. Wherever she went legends followed, but the legend that truly defined her started when she was sold to the Queen of a small Indian province. That night a great celebration was held, commemorating Prince Suraj’s first victory in battle…Maya spent the night in the palace with the prince, a gift from his mother; however in the morning she disappeared.  The prince died the following night, and soon all heard tales of the winged demon who stole the soul of their beloved prince while she slept with him. Whenever a man or woman died in their sleep, the succubus was blamed driving Maya to stay hidden from humans beyond all costs, which ultimately separated her from other Chimaera was well.

The scars she received long after she was already recognized as a demon.  With every legend comes those who seek to find the story behind it.  Her assailants drugged her, and all she remembers from that night are shadows and pain. When she awoke, she was in the gutters, the right side of her body scarred and blistered. The scars never healed as normal wounds always did, making her half beauty half beast. The attack was only one of the many reasons she left her homeland to come to the harbor guarded by the goddess of Liberty.

When Maya left India, she left behind a legend of a demon. In New York she hoped to write a new life story. Her biggest fear was her ignorance to what she was. In India she was a monster for crimes she did not commit. In America she would be a monster in her own right. Had those who started the succubus tale known the repercussions from their actions they may have shut up sooner. They gave a story to a woman who had none, and in America she would either find what she truly was or become the creature they believed her to be.  She now works at La Tristesse here in the city.  When it comes to the conflict concerning Gitanne Noblesse, she finds herself in favor of the deposed Queen.

THE STORY BEGINS: Loud laughter and music drift from inside the palace,weaving through the city so  even the gutters are alive with festivities as the Sultan’s eldest celebrates his first victory on the battle field. A hot Indian breeze drifts through the open courtyard where the sultan, prince and consorts eat and are entertained on silk and fine linen pillows. Gold and blue fabric drifts from the pillars and domes, a surreal landscape of merry making. The center of the marble floor is left open where snake charmers finish their hypnotizing songs and carefully guide the snakes back into thick brightly coloured baskets…it is a celebration fit for a prince and only the finest entertainers are invited to participate.

Prince Suraj sat by his father’s side, serving women and a few of his father’s concubines assuring he never was wanting. Suraj however was not quick enough to stifle a yawn, his mother caught it and Trishna knelt next to her husband discreetly murmuring something into his ear. With an all knowing grin the Sultan nodding dismissing his wife, silence slowly sweeping over the courtyard as the Sultana left and the Sultan addressed his court. “My son grows tired of old men basking in his youth, so for now let us all retire and give him time to rest in peace and thank Shiva and Kali for such a great victory…”

Immediately the room began to clear aside from the few stray generals and viziers stopping by to give the prince last minute congratulations or advice. Yet, soon the prince was alone, only his mother approached him now.

“Your Father granted me permission to bestow upon you a gift. You will make a fine king someday and many women will wish to make their home among your consorts…My son, I could not be prouder of you…” With that, she knelt, kissing her son’s hand and retired the only sound was her bare feet gently padding across the marble.

Suraj sprawled out among the many layers of bedding but found himself as restless now as he had been tired before.  His thoughts drifted and when the soft jingle of bangles sounded, he was unaware until the woman was only a few feet from him. Only the wind made a sound as the young prince was captivated. It was then the girl moved, her body flowing with the wind, the moon her consort and the night her song…she was supple and graceful, twirling fabric and many coins and bangles, her skin painted in henna that entwined in intricate designs all over her body.  From her back two gossamer wings shimmered in the night, and though large moved flawlessly with her, a demon’s butterfly wings…The dance came to an end well into the morning, the prince’s breath laboured as if he had been in a battle all over again, a blanket of bare flesh curled around him. Long black and red streaked hair curled on his pillow, the woman slept at his side while he dreamt of the day there would be more women and he would have sons of his own.

The dancer was an Indian slave the Sultana had purchased from an Egyptian trader. The girl did not seem upset by her bondage, instead bored. After the night with the prince she disappeared, there after becoming a legend of a succubus who had seduced the Queen and the Prince. Suraj died the next night; physicians said from a head injury on the battlefield, though that was soon drowned out as the local story spread like wildfire, the story of the winged demon who made love to the prince and stole his soul.

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